


Work Hard, Play Harder

by Shane_for_Wax



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-17
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-04-24 02:39:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14346237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shane_for_Wax/pseuds/Shane_for_Wax
Summary: Phasma is super competitive when it comes to certain sports.





	Work Hard, Play Harder

It was a common topic among the cadets after their first week: did Phasma ever take a day off? Did she ever take that helmet off? The older cadets would laugh and pretend that there was nothing under the helmet after all. That Phasma was actually just an animated suit of armor. But then, the older cadets were also the only ones who were chosen to ‘play’, a ‘reward’ for doing well in classes. 

Phasma did not always wear armor. Hux and a select few troopers (a number that increased every year but still small) were the only ones to see her outside of her very shiny armor. But it did happen.

Usually, games played in the recreation rooms of the Supremacy were meant to relax. That changed whenever Phasma reserved them for a few hours to a few days. And she was never predictable on when she would reserve one or for how long.

The top tier cadets, from word of mouth of older classes, knew to always be wary. The next time they were asked could be the one where the match goes on for three days without sleep and only short water breaks. They could not ‘quit’ and she wouldn’t take them off the list for next time if she was disappointed in their performance. And she always was. She wasn’t just the best with a blaster, or a staff, or hand to hand, but the best at playing Orb. 

It wasn’t worth being able to see their commanding officer in the pt clothes as opposed to her armor. Being good at the game only made it harder for them as she gave it all she got. Being bad was a lesson in shame. But that was Captain Phasma for you. She had even changed part of the game to where if they missed her serve, they had to shoot the ball with a pistol before it could bounce off one of the walls, floor, or ceiling. Barely anybody could do it with the same speed and finesse as Phasma. If she ever missed a serve to begin with.

But there was one cadet that seemed to be Phasma’s ‘favorite’. Nobody dared say that the cadet reminded Phasma of herself, but there was some thought about it given the similarities in height, build, and general ruthlessness during sparring sessions. Next to that, NL-8555 never seemed to complain about their matches. Instead she seemed to be the only one to realize what Phasma was doing: teaching them, even in downtime, they should give everything to being the best and that each missed shot was unforgiveable. 

They were two days into a match and Phasma didn’t seem to be winded in the least. NL-8555 gritted her teeth and kept up the pace but she was starting to miss shots more and more. She was sweating through her PT clothes but Phasma looked like she had just changed into clean clothes a few minutes previous.

“En-El Eighty-Five Fifty-Five, would you care for a break?” Phasma asked even as she served hard to 8555′s left.

“No, Captain!” the cadet responded after serving back. She had learned long ago it was a trick question. If she had said yes, Phasma would have turned up the heat even more. Phasma did not appreciate quitters. Not even for a game during downtime from training. 

Parnassos had taught Phasma how to keep going in awful conditions, to forgo sleep for days and eat little and drink even less to keep hydrated. She tried to instill those skills into her cadets. It was even easier now that Cardinal wasn’t around to ruin them before she could get to them. But the reason she only took the older cadets for matches was so that the younger would still get their ‘doses’ of sleep conditioning. The older cadets didn’t need them as often. And NL-8555 seemed to have taken very well to the conditioning to where Phasma recommended even less, which gave more time for matches. 

If Phasma hadn’t warned the Stormtroopers against hubris, NL-8555 might be considered proud of her rise and being chosen for matches the most. And for being able to keep up with Phasma the longest. Another whack and then 8555 missed the serve but she managed to shoot the ball. Her serve of the new ball actually sent Phasma leaping towards a wall to hit it. With a bark of laughter, she sent it spinning to 8555 who missed the serve and shooting it. 

“Getting sloppy, Enel Eighty-Five Fifty-Five.” The taunt almost stung more without it coming through a helmet speaker. But the cadet refused to give in. “Come on, Enel. I know you want to stop. You’ve been awake nearly three days.”

NL-8555 sent the ball whizzing past Phasma’s head. For a second she thought she had gotten a point but then Phasma’s arm blurred and the ball exploded just millimeters before it hit the wall.

“Blaster bolts,” NL-8555 muttered. The new ball pinged her in the shoulder as her attention lapsed. She found she was thirsty more than tired. 

“Focus! A battle does not end because you are tired. Or thirsty. Or dragged down by the weight of your own clothes!”

“Yes, Captain!”

Whack, whack, whack, pew!

Enel’s world was just the ball, the pistol on her hip, the racket in her hand, and her Captain. All the cadets warned not to argue with the Captain. No use telling her this was filed under recreation. It was just a game? Not for Phasma. Not for the cadets either if they knew what was good for them.

Whack, pew, whack, whack, point!

If Enel had celebrated she knew her Captain would have given her a demerit. A trooper did not celebrate a minor advancement when the battle was not done. So instead she allowed a tiny smirk, one she was sure Phasma saw. If the Captain had, she didn’t say or do anything about it.

Enel wasn’t sure if she should be proud or distraught as the match went into four whole days, a record. Phasma was playing a little slower but Enel wasn’t feeling all that confident. 

They were at a tie and Enel knew it was just a matter of time before it broke. Hopefully before she broke. 

But then suddenly Phasma grabbed the ball out of mid air. It would have been a foul normally, but Enel knew what it meant. 

“Congratulations, NL-2555. You have learned the art of a stalemate, which should never happen on the battlefield.”

Enel would have flinched if she had the energy. 

“Besides that, your performance was adequate.”

Adequate… Enel was almost too tired to realize that was actually a compliment.

“You have twelve hours to rest, eat, and hydrate. Your graduation present will be your first battle.” 

Enel hid her gaping with a stiff salute. She knew Phasma never would send someone into the field she wasn’t certain could handle it. What she doubted was whether twelve hours would be enough to recuperate from Phasma’s odd version of Hell Week the Sequel. Everyone in Enel’s class had already been through the first one. She realized this was probably the last time she would have an Orb match with her Captain as she was no longer going to be considered a cadet.

Let the next class deal with Phasma’s insatiable need to be the best, then. 

She was so tired she didn’t even register the fact that people, a couple older cadets and even a couple of troopers, had crowded the doorway and the small windows. She did laugh a little when she heard Phasma call out to another trooper to try their ‘luck’. Maybe Phasma was a machine after all.

**Author's Note:**

> "Orb" is not a canon thing and is something that I just came up with on the fly with some inspiration from Velocity from Star Trek Voyager. So don't bother looking it up. We'll pretend Phasma made it up herself.


End file.
